


you follow what you feel inside (it's intuitive; you don't have to try)

by smithens



Series: what you do so naturally [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Sequence, Fix-It, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Queer Culture, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithens/pseuds/smithens
Summary: Times are changing at Downton, and Thomas has a decision to make.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow & Richard Ellis, Thomas Barrow/Chris Webster
Series: what you do so naturally [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913407
Comments: 24
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was an epilogue but it got too long so now it's its own fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh i hate that google docs counts words differently than ao3
> 
> i'll fix it later

**1927**

"He's asked me to move in with him," Thomas says, staring in turn at his hands in his lap and then out the window. The sun is strong. The estate is lush and green. Dick is a much better driver than he is.

He wonders how he learned.

It's never come up, before, but then they don't see each other all that often, and certainly not when there are cars available.

Still, he's always liked him. They get on.

"Has he indeed."

"Yeah."

"Will you?"

"Dunno."

He wants to.

"You'd not be the first," Dick says, all gentle and encouraging.

*

He gets like that sometimes. Thomas can't tell if it's with everybody or just him—him the one who started out a sick-in-the-head stranger, the one who'd had to claw his way back to knowing things and people after it'd all left him. Far as he can tell Dick's the only man of their group who still ever acts as if Thomas were born yesterday, but then, he doesn't know how they talk about him when he's not there, does he?

"I _know_ that." He hadn't, though. Not necessarily. Pointedly, he changes the subject: "been sleeping well lately, Mr Ellis?"

*

"Sorry?"

"Only I saw somebody who looked like you leaving the Stanhope Room last night…"

"What were you doing in the bachelor's wing at that hour?"

Thomas raises his eyebrows. "My job."

He huffs, steadfastedly watching the road. "Right."

"Don't recall saying the Stanhope was in the bachelor's wing."

"It's not often he's in England," Dick says defensively. "I'm unattached, I don't see the harm in-"

"That _is_ the bloody harm in it, Dick, is you'll _get_ attached, you're not exactly known for oncing-"

"I'm not looking to be the next Marchioness of Hexham, if that's what you're concerned about."

*

"Look, I only mean… how've you been, since...?"

Nice to finally chat without Carson or a _Page of the Backstairs_ lurking round the corner.

"I've landed on my feet," Dick says eventually. When Thomas looks over his thumbs are rubbing at the steering wheel. "Weren't the first time I've been jilted."

"Sorry."

"You're not the bloke who ran off with a Spaniard right from under my nose."

"Was he Spanish? Tony said Algerian."

"Tony likes to tell tales." Dick pauses. "You might look out for your cook..."

" _Tony likes_ to put on a show almost as much as you do..."

*

"...Daisy's not interested in him, though."

Dick raises his eyebrows...

"She's not interested in men."

...only to break out into a smile. "Is that right."

"Pretty sure… our last footman, the one before Albert, he proposed, but she turned him down… she's only shown proper interest in a man twice since I've met her. Usually _romance_ isn't on her mind, only when Mrs Branson was teaching her she..."

"There's always a teacher," says Dick, amused. Then: "and the blokes?"

"I was the first," he tells him, "and the one came after was a step down, I'll tell you that much."

*

"…anymore."

"We lost a whole bunch of people last year," Thomas counters. "Er, not _lost,_ just they all wanted to move on at the same time…"

Meanwhile he's stuck. What else could he do? He's tried his hand at leaving before and it's never turned out.

_Maybe it'll be different going with Chris..._

"From service or the house?"

"Both." He pauses. "The Bateses stop by every once in a while, with their little boy, but I never– er, Bates was His Lordship's valet and Anna was maid to Lady Mary–"

"They resigned but still come round?"

"Yes."

"Odd."

"Downton is."

*

"...but I'll be sacked soon, me," Thomas says bluntly. They're getting closer to the city. More cars about, more people. "It's 1927. Nobody's got an under-butler anymore."

They have to stop at a rail crossing, even though the train's a ways off still.

"The Royal Household's got more than you can count on one hand," says Dick.

"Yeah, well, I work for the Earl of Grantham, not the King of England." He takes a deep breath; Dick lets him. "They'd've done it already if it weren't for the royal visit."

"You're welcome."

Maybe this is why they don't talk much.

*

"...at least the children like me."

"I can't tell you how envious I am," Dick replies, suddenly serious. "Not often men like us get to have little ones about."

"Yeah," Thomas mutters. He shifts in his seat. "'S one reason I–"

"Why you're not sure?"

"Yeah," he says again. "Er, Lady Mary thinks I'm good with them."

"Envious of that, too."

" _Yeah_ ," broken bloody record, "just with Master George, though, the rest aren't at Downton anymore, but–but when she and Mr Blake have their first–"

"That's a bridge you'll cross when you come to it, Thomas," he says gently.

*

"...seemed to me like you were doing most of the work, til the rest of us arrived."

"And I was," Thomas says, feeling round the brim of his hat, staring at a loose thread on the band. "But I don't think Lord Grantham's figured out why, seeing as Carson's not gonna admit it, and it's been months since it started…"

"Wouldn't they promote you? If he did?"

"You might not have noticed this, Mr Ellis," Thomas says, "but at Downton we don't really do things the traditional way."

Dick laughs. He puts the car in park. "I had no idea."

*

"...right, what's the plan?"

Turton's is the plan.

"We'll just stay at his place, I think," Thomas lies, as if he hasn't been dreaming of being swept off of his feet every night for weeks on end.

"So if my mum shoos me out the door sooner than I expect you'll be about?"

Nothing gets past this man. Bloody nothing.

"Right," Dick repeats, under his breath. "Just... don't be foolish." He pulls his driving gloves on again and starts the car, but doesn't crank up the window just yet.

"I won't be."

"Not you I'm worried about."

"Good _bye_ , Dick."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wuh-oh! not looking at three chapters anymore!

"...how's he getting on, then?" Chris says, with a nod toward the space out front his building that Dick has just vacated.

Thomas mulls it over.

"Not as well as he wants me to think."

_But enough about everybody else…_

Once they're inside Thomas wraps his arms around Chris's neck and kisses him how he's longed to for– fuck, it's been more than a month now, hasn't it, _ages,_ and– 

After it's done Chris laughs. The look in his eyes makes Thomas blush all on its own. "Happy to see me?"

"Yes," Thomas breathes, nuzzling his shoulder, "yes, I am."

*

"Have I said yet I like the hair?"

They really ought to get out of bed, if they're going out… but Thomas won't be the one to say it.

"No," Thomas says, pressing a kiss to his chest. "Do you?"

"I do."

"Good." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't worried. "Went to a proper barber."

A proper, old-enough-to-be-his-father-and-about-as-stern-too barber. He'd just let him do what was fashionable.

"Got to make sacrifices," Chris teases, "when the chap does your hair's gone to Algeria…"

"Spain, Dick said."

"Well, that's a bit closer, in't it."

"Not close enough for a haircut."

*

"Poor bloke."

"Yeah." More kisses. May as well get them in while he can. Chris laughs, and it's the best sound in the whole bloody world. "Now, don't _you_ go running off some place..."

"Won't never, unless I can take you along with me."

Even a year ago words like that would've had him stopped short and staring, with a thumping heart and an open mouth and the sense that the room's about to close in on him, but _now…_

Well, now they still do, but the difference is, tonight he can smile and say, "and where would we go?"

*

Turton's has a good crowd—good enough they dance with other people, a little. Just enough to keep things interesting.

But mostly it's each other, and it's as special as it always is… there will never be any dance so magical as the very first one they ever shared, Thomas is aware that he is too much of a romantic for that to be possible, but all the rest are still incredible and wonderful and probably a whole bunch of other adjectives he doesn't have the head for at the moment.

Tonight Chris is leading. 

Secretly, Thomas likes that the best.

*

"Would you just look what the cat dragged in!"

"Blimey, it's been an age…"

"Oh, God help me," mutters Vivian, "I'd wanted to tango with somebody new tonight."

_Good luck with that._

"Just as I said," Chris says, smug, laughing. Harry reluctantly takes out his coin purse. "Late, but just as I said."

Thomas is not losing any money, because he's been around long enough to know that Chris is always right where men are concerned. If he says somebody'll show up somewhere, _somebody_ probably will.

"Thought I'd swing by and see what the fuss was about," Dick says awkwardly.

*

"Dicky at a dance!"

"Takes me back to '14."

"I should hope not," Thomas says curtly. "Unless you miss being on the other side of the Channel…" 

Daniel looks appropriately guilty.

"Let a man live, why don't you?" adds Chris. "He could do with some fun."

_Thanks,_ mouths Dick. 

"You should have them draw lots," Clarence says, with a grand gesture of his arm. It's unnecessary. Everybody knows already where all the eyes in the room are fixed. "You can use my hat, if you'd like."

"I've got my own hat, thanks."

"Oh, he's got his own hat, he says…"

*

"Thomas," Chris murmurs into his ear. The rest have all decided it is open season on Richard Ellis, and are ignoring the two of them. Just the way he likes it. "Tommy, ask him for a dance."

Or not.

"Who? Dick?" he whispers back. "You're shitting me, why would I – "

Figures he'd get his lap privileges revoked for that.

He pretends like he got up of his own volition and not because he was pushed, and puts his cigarette out in the makeshift ashtray.

"Well, _Mr Ellis,_ if you're here you might show us what you can do..."

*

He discovers very quickly _why he would._

"Thanks," Dick keeps saying, "I have two left feet…"

"And that's all you'll ever have, you keep talking like that," Thomas snaps. "I'm trying to _help_ you."

"Maybe I'm past help," he replies evenly, but he also gets the footing right at the same time.

It is truly difficult to ever figure out when he's being serious and when he isn't.

"The only people who're past help are the ones who give up before they can _learn_ anything."

"Somebody famous say that first?"

"How famous am I, do you suppose?"

*

"You can lead, if you like."

"Leading's easy," Dick says, "this here is the hard stuff."

"For you, maybe."

"Chris a good lead, then? Never danced with him, now I think of it."

"Yeah, he's… he's good." Thomas finds himself suddenly tongue tied. He looks back at the rest of them, at their own claimed corner. Chris is angled toward Michael, deep in a conversation with a smile on his face, but his eyes keep flicking back to Thomas. "He's…" 

"Yeah?"

God, he's been so stupid… it's all he _wants,_ is...

"I think I _will._ "

"You're been drinking, Mr Barrow…"

*

But he's almost as good a dancer drunk as when he's sober, so it doesn't count for much. 

He wouldn't call Dick his best student but they make good enough progress that whoever he's here for (and there's got to be somebody, he wouldn't've shown up if he didn't want to make a particular impression, Thomas is sure of it) won't get his feet trampled. _You're welcome…_ Some blokes wouldn't mind, though, given his face.

"Sit down, why don't you," Chris says to both of them as they approach. 

One thing's for certain; he doesn't need to tell Thomas twice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's sex in this here chapter
> 
> this had more character development originally but I took it to the chopping block; I'm leaving room for side pieces now... thanks for reading!

He doesn't wait for permission before curling up on Chris again and kissing his jaw.

If you told him a few years ago he'd make a habit of such behaviour in public he'd be horrified… but he's almost known for it now. Among friends, at least.

Good to make things clear. Show who's whose.

"Where's Viv gone off to?"

"Grabbing a drink."

Dick nods, looking relieved. He keeps playing with a button on his jacket—it's a bit much, hanging about in a place like this with all three pieces on, but they're used to that behaviour from him by now.

*

"Belle of the bloody ball," he says aside, but he's saying it fondly. It's good for him to have time some place that isn't Birdcage Walk… though, Thomas is doubtful if he spends much time there. Proximity or not, Dick gets nervous within a stone's throw of a peeler and besides that can't go with anybody without falling head over heels for him.

They probably have that in common.

"I remember somebody else's first time…"

"Really?" Thomas asks, coyly. "Whose?"

Chris laughs—he slips his fingers underneath one of his front brace straps, tugs. Somehow Thomas's cheeks get more warm.

*

"Who had the greater success, then?"

"Him, obviously," Thomas replies, with a nod toward everybody-knows-who, "but only 'cause he's unattached."

The answer seems satisfying to Clarence, who hops up from his seat and announces that he's going to have his turn now. It gets Vivian scowling. 

"What's got you sour?"

"He hasn't found his somebody new yet," Chris informs him.

"Why, there's somebody new right over there!"

Thomas takes pity on Vivian and and hauls him to his feet. They only go one tune before he's in Chris's arms again, and there he stays for the rest of the night.

*

The fact is that when you've only got so much time together, dancing doesn't stay proper very long before something else comes to mind. They won't do it here, not tonight, so they've got to let somebody know they're going… if they can find him.

Chris stops abruptly; Thomas runs into his hand, held out behind him in the shape of _stop._

Thomas pokes his head round the corner.

Somehow both the most and least surprising event of the night is that once he does he finds Dick and Vivian half dressed and kissing like they'll die if they stop.

*

"Just don't forget you're my ticket back to Downton," Thomas mutters.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dick says, head out the car window, grinning, and Vivian rolls his eyes with something that Thomas would hesitate to call _affection_ but is pretty fucking close, the hell happened to them, "don't you worry, Mr Barrow, I'll see you back to your post…"

"Oh, now, you don't _have_ to," Chris contributes.

Thomas elbows him and is rewarded for it with him slipping his arm through his and tugging. He's had just enough to drink that it knocks him entirely off-kilter.

They all part ways.

*

It's _good;_ it's always good, but being together now feels even better than all the times before it— and it always feels that way, every time they get to see each other and they get up to this sort of thing, but _fuck,_ it's–

It's having all his clothes off, discarded in a heap on the floor because neither of them had the patience to put them aside neatly; it's the sheets tangled up at their feet; it's the sweat in the small of his back and under his arms, behind his knees; it's the _sounds_ they make together, desperate.

*

It's the feeling of Chris's hands sturdy on his hips and of his tongue inside of him, lips pressed to his skin, his stubble his moustache his everything, determined even as Thomas gasps and thrashes underneath him. He presses his face into the pillow and keeps as quiet as he can, which isn't much, but the walls have heard worse and they've always been fine— _God_ he's perfect it is perfect and when they are as close and as intimate as this he loves him with his whole entire heart, all of it willing, all of it there for him.

*

Afterwards they lie in bed together, bodies bare and close, just talking… and not talking. Sometimes they've got things to whisper about and sometimes they haven't. 

Every time ends in Thomas wanting to stay forever and ending up miserable as soon as he's confronted with the fact that he can't— sure enough, there's a honk of an automobile horn outside.

There's his confrontation. Thomas closes his eyes and huffs. Even if it's not him (and it probably isn't, that'd make him _on time_ if so) it's still...

"Better look," Chris sighs. 

It is with reluctance that Thomas gets out of bed.

*

He sticks his head out the window; down below Dick tips his hat at him.

Fuck.

"Is it him?" Chris asks.

"'Fraid so," Thomas answers, trying to get his trousers on quick and not hop around like an idiot while he does. Chris gathers up the rest of his clothing, setting it on the dresser beside him.

"Thought he'd take longer."

"Yeah, me too."

"Be nice if you didn't have to go," hints Chris.

"I've been thinking about it," Thomas insists, "I have been, only…"

"Take your time, love," he says. He kisses Thomas on the forehead. "Take your time."

*

"You pick one day to be on time and it just had to be this one," Thomas grumbles.

"Viv shooed me out," voice flat.

Well.

That's… unfortunate, but really, what were they expecting? He'd got so caught up in seeing it as something out of a romance novel that– 

"Said I ought to mend the habit," he goes on, "if I want to see him again."

" _Do_ you?"

Silence.

Funny.

"More than I like."

"How much is that?"

Dick smiles. He avoids the question but gives him an answer anyway: "we'll see what happens when he's next up to London..."

*

"...but do you think I should?" Thomas asks as they walk back to the house. It's dawn. The abbey is nice this way. With somebody he's comfortable around. When he doesn't have to try with all he's got to be something isn't. He's had that other places, but never at Downton. "Go and live with him, I mean."

"Well, it'll be a leap of faith, won't it," Dick says thoughtfully. He looks over at him, considering. Thomas feels his heartbeat quicken. _Please say yes,_ he realises, _I need somebody to tell me yes._ "But you've taken those before, haven't you?"

*

He has, yes… and when he takes this one he even lands on his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr as [@combeferre](https://combeferre.tumblr.com)!


End file.
